The type of privilege I enjoyed. I remember how astounded I was when I gradually realized that not all parents shared the type of love that my parents did. A love that even death could not conquer, and my parents made it seem perfectly normal, or as Saint Paul said:
[4] Love is patient, is kind: love envieth not, dealeth not perversely; is not puffed up; [5] Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil;
1 Corinthians 13: 4-5
Without love we are but sad beasts. With love, beginning with love of God, we are sons and daughters of He who made all.
That someone has to say it is a privilege rather than something normal to be brought up in a loving home where father and mother are committed to each other and to their children, sums up how demonic our culture is.